sportif
by Tess 4 5
Summary: Who said she only had learned Aikido? Who said he only had practised rowing at Eton? And who said that a free evening during a frustrating case in a taciturn village must stay boring by spending it with watching a stupid film?


**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the original characters nor the original Inspector Lynley Mysteries – they belong to Elizabeth George and the BBC. I have borrowed the characters from the TV-Show and solely own the ideas of _my _stories and the developments _I_ let them go through.

Please write a PM if I did something terribly wrong. Thanks!

Please read and review! More thanks!

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**Summary: **Who said she only had learned Aikido? Who said he only had practised rowing at Eton? And who said that a free evening during a frustrating case in a taciturn village must stay boring by spending it with watching a stupid film?

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**Author's note:** Yes, yes, I know, Book 2... I'm a bit stuck there. Instead here's some fun that sprang to my mind and circled there, blocking all other ideas. Really, this is just some fun.

M-rated, just to be safe.

Enjoy it!

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**Sportif**

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_"You _what_?!" he gasped._

_"I've been practising it for years." she answered as if it was absolutely nothing unusual._

* * *

DI Tommy Lynley and DS Barbara Havers sat in the lounge of a B&amp;B somewhere in the North Yorkshire Moors, watching a stupid swashbuckler film from the 1950s on TV. They had needed an afternoon of distraction because they were stuck in that case the local police had asked them to help with. The whole village seemed to bite its tongue - nobody had seen, nor heard, nor done anything. And therefore nobody had anything to tell. Nonetheless the local estate agent actually _had_ been found strangled to death in his office.

At the moment the two officers were alone in the lounge, sitting close on the tiny sofa - too close for Barbara's liking. He made her nervous. They were sipping tea and watching a stupid film. It did not only distract them from the tricky case, concentrating on something on the screen obviously also distracted them from each other. That is until the film grew boring and she had become aware of his proximity again. Barbara had had a crush on her DI for ages and had started to live with it though cases away from London always were threatening her self-control. He was the eighth Earl of Asherton, she was a working class copper. Never could she approach her noble colleague in any _unmistakable_ way, could she? She knew that he would politely tell her _no_. She did not know that her DI eventually had discovered equal feelings for her and was suffering from the same self-imposed restrictions. But he could not quite possibly declare himself to a colleague, at least to a subordinate, not at all to Barbara, could he? She would laugh him out of court.

So now they were sitting in companionable but slightly nervous silence in front of the TV. A few moments ago the hero of that film and his enemy had fought with their épées in such a ridiculous manner that Barbara had to laugh out loud.

"Ridiculous!" she had snorted.

"What? That scene? Oh, it's a film, Barbara, it's all just for dramatic show."

"Yah, but if he would have meant to trap him that way he shouldn't have raised the épée _that_ high above his head. A high line riposte doesn't try to reach the ceiling. So the other would have stabbed him easily with a lunge if he of course wouldn't pose so much only for looking... whatever. He's not even sporty. And not to mention the bad stance of this... what's he playin'? ... 'Royal guard' !"

Lynley had listened to her talking about the bad fencing they had shown on screen until he had asked her how it came that she obviously knew how one should do this and she had answered "Because I _do_ fence."

"You _what_?!" he gasped.

"I've been practising it for years." she answered as if it was absolutely nothing unusual. Then she told him that it had been an opportunity once, back in her first days at the police and she had visited the free course until they discontinued it but she had gone on practising it in a private sports club.

"You wouldn't believe how expensive it is to stay in that bloody club. But I've got no other hobbies, then so what...?!" Barbara sipped at her tea.

"Unbelievable..." he mumbled shaking his head and pensively looking at his colleague. _Still waters..._ he thought. But then his eyes returned back to the screen and they went on watching the film. Although Lynley made her even a bit more nervous since he eventually had started to fidget with his mobile all the time.

* * *

Suddenly he stood up and held out a hand to her. "Come with me." he said eagerly.

Reluctantly Barbara took his hand and let herself be dragged up from the sofa. Of course he let go of her hand as soon as she stood - he would not dare to keep holding her hand - but he shooed her down the stairs and out of the house and ushered her into his old - _classic!_ \- car. For about six or seven minutes driving he refused to tell her where they were heading.

"D'you have a new theory on that case?" she asked. Grinning her DI turned into a small driveway and one minute later they turned up at the front of a castle.

"This is Mallard Manor. Get out, m'lady."

"What are we doin' _here_, Sir?" Barbara had become quite angry and if it was not for her deep trust in the noble policeman she would not have followed anyway.

The doors of the manor were open and they entered to find themselves in some kind of foyer with a reception.

_Maybe it's a hotel and he had enough of the cheap B&amp;B down in the village._ Barbara thought. But then again, why hadn't he taken their luggage with them? And why make such a secret of it?

"Good evening, Ma'am. Sir." the porter greeted them. Barbara just nodded. If she would not be enlightened she would refuse to say a single word.

"Good evening." Tommy answered and showed his - huh? His _private_ ID?! "I'm Lord Asherton and I'd like to have umm..." he looked pensively at Barbara. "We'd like to have one and a half hour in one of your rooms. Is that possible?"

Barbara was shocked. _What? Is he actually asking for a room for one and a half hour with me?_ She was about to protest fiercely when she saw two people coming down the hall in fencing dress and when she listened closely she could have sworn that she heard sabre-rattling. The porter looked first at the ID card then at his computer and nodded.

"Of course, Your Lordship." His voice was dripping with servile honey and Barbara snorted in disgust. It was always the same. "Do you have your own dress or should we provide you with it?" He waved a hand and out of thin air two liveried young men appeared.

_That's freaky._ Barbara thought.

"We came here by chance, so unfortunately we have no dress with us." Lynley answered and the men were measuring them up with their eyes and disappeared again.

"Sabre, foil or épée?" the porter asked.

Lynley raised a questioning eyebrow at Barbara who absentminded answered.

"Foil." Then she snapped. "Are you challenging me to a duel?!"

"Yes, I do." the Lord grinned broadly. "I'm practising since my Eton days and I'm ultimately happy that I've found something we both could share apart from the odd pint after work. Come now, there are our dresses."

* * *

In some kind of unbelieving haze she followed her 'butler', who was carrying the clothes, to a changing room where she put on the (besides wonderfully freshly smelling) fencing dress that fitted surprisingly perfect. And it was distinctively newer than her old garments at home.

Outside the small room she was welcomed by her boss, looking incredibly handsome in tight fitting white, still grinning broadly from one ear to the other. He handed her an arms chest. Accepting the crook of his arm Barbara shook her head but let herself be led away.

"I can't believe this." she muttered but yielded up to her fate. "It's absolutely freaky."

"It is!" Lynley laughed. "But who cares? This will be a better distraction than the stupid film."

They both went down a stair into the cellar and then into room B3 at the end of the corridor. It was a long and wide, brightly lit room with a vaulted ceiling, with a huge mirror on one and a long low bench on the opposite side, a table, offering a few bottles of water, and two chairs stood in one corner. The floor was fully wooden and the piste only was marked with coloured stripes. It bounced a bit with every step.

"How did you know this strange club is here?" Barbara asked while they did some warming up. Her question ripped the dark haired man out of his musing how beautifully female his colleague looked in the white fencing dress with its tight fitting breeches and the curves-showing jacket.

"Umm... I, err..." he raked a hand through his already unkempt hair and Barbara had to suppress an impulsive sigh. "I've searched the internet out of pure boredom when you chose to watch this stupid film." He lopsidedly grinned.

"How much does it cost? I believe normal people wouldn't be able to afford-"

"Don't care about that, Barbara, I _am_ not normal." Now he fully grinned and made a few wooshing air strikes with his weapon.

"I never doubted that." Barbara shook her head. "I let you get off with it just this once, Sir. A little exercise would do me good, otherwise I probably would have killed one of those villagers soon. With my bare hands. On guard?"

She already had positioned herself on the piste.

"Not yet. We have to agree on a stake."

Barbara groaned in annoyance.

"When I win..." he said and showed his white teeth in a huge threatening grin. "...you'll call me Tommy from then on."

"Ha!" Barbara shook her head. She knew that she had had some very good teachers in her club who certified that she was a good fencer. Not as good as Anna Bentley of course but for a late starter quite brilliant. "As if that would _ever_ happen..."

And even if she would lose she had to admit to herself that she would be happy to have an excuse to finally call him by his given name.

"What do you want _me_ to do when the highly unlikely chance occurs that _you_ win?"

An inappropriate thought crossed her mind and she blushed a little.

"Umm..." she thought about it. "When you lose-"

"If...!"

"_When_ you lose... you owe me a day out..."

"A day out? Such a small stake..."

"...with a football game in the stadium in the afternoon..."

"Aha?"

"...and dinner in the evening..."

"Dinner. Still a small sta-"

"...in a restaurant of _my_ choice. And afterwards..."

"Yes?" _Afterwards I'd do whatever you want me to do, Barbara._ Now it was his turn to show flushed cheeks.

"...afterwards we go to the pub, have a pint... and sing karaoke."

"No!"

"Yes. And when you've passed all this we go out dancing. In a club of _my_ choice." She let the mask slip down before her face.

"Alright then, settled! Since it's highly unlikely I agree." Tommy grinned and put on the mask himself. "En garde!"

"I'm ready!"

"Allez!"

* * *

It took him a while before he could place the first hit on her chest.

"Touché!" he cried out. Heavily panting he went back to the en garde line. "Prepare to call me by my first name, my gracious lady."

"Never!" Barbara took a few breaths to steady herself. "On guard!"

"Êtes-vous prêts?"

"Yes. Go!"

This time they needed even still more backs and forths before Barbara made the equalising hit.

"Yes! Touché!" she grunted exhausted. "Now you better collect your change coins for an expensive day out... _Sir_!"

They fought a while and the next point was hers, followed by another playfully teasing verbal attack, but Tommy also could hit him once more so it was 2-2.

* * *

When it was 4-4 after a long balanced fight they took a short break. Heavily breathing they stood in the corner with the table and refreshed a bit with big gulps from the water. Tommy appreciatively nodded.

"You're quite good at that, Barbara."

"And you seem out of practice." Barbara cheekily grinned and after a pause she added a humorously sarcastic "Sir!"

"I actually am. But you still don't stand a chance!" He came really close and towered in front of her. With narrow eyes - they sparkled and the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes spoke of the jolly fun he had - he bent down to her face a little more. "You _will_ call me Tommy!" _This way or the other!_

"Never! So, the next touch is the one. Are you ready to go on... Sir?" Though he made her nervous Barbara still felt quite a bit flirtatious. It was not only extreme fun fencing with her boss, the physical activity also was setting endorphines free she really had needed in this frustrating case. And the sight of him in those tight pants over his very well shaped bottom, his wet hair messed up, sweaty pearls shimmering on his forehead, his chest heaving with ragged breathing - suddenly she was all but concentrated on the last round that lay ahead. And she was entirely oblivious for his eyes nearly eating her alive for she looked as exhausted as him and he naughtily liked that view.

Tommy cleared his throat and forced his eyes away from her mouth breathing through half open lips. "Since the next one is the deciding round - do you know how to fence free-style?"

"You mean with stepping off the piste and hopping on benches and stairs?" Barbara chuckled.

"Exactly. Have you ever?"

"Well we used to fool around after each training, so, yes, probably I know how to fence free-style."

"Care to do it for the last point?"

Barbara thought about it for just a second before she nodded. "Right. Any rules?"

"Three body hits or one here." Tommy circled his heart. "No other hits count. After a body hit the duel is not interrupted and goes on at exactly the point where we are."

"Agreed. Are you ready, old man?" Barbara looked at him in terrified surprise. "Oh, err... I... umm... _Sir_..."

"You will soon learn how agile this old man is, little lady." Tommy leaned over to her, watching her from the shortest distance without touching. Suddenly his aftershave hit her nose and filled her brain and she had to step back or else she would have swooned.

_Get rid of those thoughts, Barbara!_ she berated herself and masked her face again. She turned her back to him and took her position on the piste. "On guard, Sir."

Tommy shook his head and followed. He could have sworn that Barbara had flirted with him and he nearly had kissed her. "Êtes-vous prêts?"

"Yes, allez."

They spent quite some time with equal but unused chances on both sides until the first step off the piste was made. They exchanged a few heavy attacks, feints, remises and ripostes. Nobody scored. The room was filled with just a few groans, huffs and the sound of shoes stomping and squeaking across the polished floor. Tommy started to concentrate on the little stressed wonderful noises Barbara made until she unexpectedly turned herself ducking into his lame attack and in return placed the first of a body hit.

"One!" she shouted and hopped six feet backwards. "Touché, Sir!"

"Bloody!" he cursed under his mask and tried to follow her but she jumped onto the bench and was above him.

"Oh this is fun!" Barbara hissed without stopping the duel.

"Not for long, Barbara... not- _unggh_!" He made an unsuccessful attack. "...not for long!" He saw her hidden movement in the mirror and ducked away so her jumping attack missed him only an inch. "Just the arm."

"F**k!" She stepped to the right and at the same time Tommy made it around her and gave her a smack onto her bottom with his left hand. He was a bit surprised about himself and dearly hoped that she would not use it against him.

Barbara squeaked. "Be_have_!" She jumped a few more feet to the right. _What was _that_?!_

"Sorry!" Tommy panted. "Couldn't resist!" She could hear the grin in his voice.

He took advantage of her irritation and tried to land a hit on her heart but Barbara was faster and out of another turning movement she hit his chest once more.

"Two-ché!" she cried out and ran past him and into the other corner of the room where the table was.

"Blimey!" he cursed and was rewarded with a chuckle from Barbara.

They circled around each other like feline predators around their prey. Tommy let his weapon down but Barbara knew that he only tried to bring her into an incautious attack so he could hit her heart which was his best chance to win this game-fight.

_Catch me, Tiger._ she thought and grinned under her mask. _If you can._

* * *

In this circling Barbara took the chance to eye him closer. He had a very good shaped body, she thought. The jacket even seemed to be a bit too tight over his arms. And the breeches showed a well shaped thigh. The usual fencing stance only emphasised that. His chest was heaving and the breathing noises she could hear distracted her a bit from the fact that they were _fencing_ and not-

"HAA!" With some sort of a battle cry Tommy started to fence like a mad hurricane and Barbara could do anything but parry his attacks and stumble backwards until her back was against the wall. Their fists with the weapons were crossed in front of the bib at her throat. His chest was pressed against hers. If it was not in the middle of a fencing fight which had woken her will to win over her boss she would have savoured this moment of closeness. Heavily breathing she saw the white of his eyes even through the metal mesh. His face seemed to have a strained expression and she could feel his breath in her face. Like he felt hers on his.

"In a real fight I could easily press the blade onto your throat. You're weak, little woman." He sounded seductive. It talked to his entire body to have her trapped here.

"In a real fight I could easily lift my knee and crush your... sensible parts. _Sir_." She sounded no less seductive. Her knees started to turn into jelly. She should not revel in being trapped that way.

"Both wouldn't count as a hit in this fight." His thigh brushed hers. _Am I insane?!_

"So it's a drawn here?" She slightly lifted her leg against his. _God, this feels good!_

"Restart at _en garde_?" He had to stop this contact or else he could not hold himself back any longer.

Barbara nodded. "Restart." This should not go on any longer or else she would melt down the wall. Or closer into his body.

* * *

They stayed in that position for a few unnecessary seconds more before they moved and took their stance on the piste. The blades were lifted for a final greeting, Barbara said "On guard!", Tommy asked "Prêt?", both nodded and then Barbara said "Allez!"

In exact the same second Tommy, full of energy, already was stepping forward, again fencing quickly, and again Barbara could do nothing but step backwards, avoid a hit, parry his foil and try to find a hole in his actions to place a hit herself. She felt she would soon hit the wall once more if this attack would not slow down.

Then her back crushed into said wall, her foil hit his belly, her heart felt the pressure of a hit.

"TOUCHÉ!" Both cried out in unison when his body crushed into hers, the blades of their foils between them. Tommy knocked his left fist into the wall next to Barbara's head. His breath came out in the same ragged pants like those of the woman between his pelvis and the wall. Barbara took off her mask. Her hair was a total mess, her face was flushed. Tommy could see the reddened skin down to the high collar of her jacket. A trickle of sweat left its salty trace on her throat and glittered in the lights before it vanished in said collar. He swallowed hard.

Tommy ripped off his mask too and carelessly let it fall to the floor together with his weapon. He also placed his right hand next to her shoulder against the wall. It was not his hip bone that pierced into her lower belly and sent a warm jolt of pleasure through her whole body.

"I've placed the third body hit." Barbara stated with a shaky voice. She couldn't divert her eyes from his. She felt desire replacing the pleasure creeping down into her abdomen.

"I've hit your heart." he panted. His eyes darted from her eyes to her lips and back. Unconciously he ground his hip into hers. She smelled so good, of a flowery shower gel and... sweaty exhaustion.

Sweaty exhaustion... and a hint of his musky aftershave filled her nose and dulled her brain.

"You have." Barbara whispered.

"We both are dead." His voice was raspy. "And we both have won." He had moved his face so close to hers that he could feel her breath on his lips. "I owe you a day out."

"You do." Her voice was merely audible.

Gently but definitely with purpose he ground his arousal into her hip in little circles. "Barbara..." he breathlessly moaned. His lips hovered achingly hesitant above hers as if he was waiting for something, an approval, an invitation, a confirmation, anything. For a brief moment nothing could be heard but their ragged breaths and the tiny sound her lips made when she parted them.

"Yes." she whimpered, her own arousal suddenly perceptibly damp between her weak legs. "Tommy..." she breathed onto his lips before he closed the last distance and finally kissed her senseless against the wall.

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From then on the case in that taciturn village was everything but boring.

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